Отчаянно неженатый камрад
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Cohen the Barbarian
Вот так его и зовут... 
Вот отрывочек с его самоинтродукцией.
The man had only one eye; the other was covered by a black patch. His thin body was a network of scars and, currently, twanging white-hot with tendonitis. His teeth had obviously decided to quit long ago.
'Who are you?' Rincewind said.
'Bethan,' said the girl, rubbing a handful of nasty-smelling green ointment into the old man's back. She wore the air of one who, if asked to consider what sort of events might occur after being rescued from virgin sacrifice by a hero with a white charger, would probably not have mentioned linament, but who, now linament was apparently what did happen to you after all, was determined to be good at it.
'I meant him,' said Rincewind.
One star-bright eye looked up at him.
'Cohen ish my name, boy.' Bethan's hands stopped moving.
'Cohen?' she said. 'Cohen the Barbarian?'
'The very shame.'
'Hang on, hang on,' said Rincewind. 'Cohen's a great big chap, neck like a bull, got chest muscles like a sack of footballs. I mean, he's the Disc's greatest warrior, a legend in his own lifetime. I remember my grandad telling me he saw him . . . my grandad telling me he . . . my grandad . . .'
He faltered under the gimlet gaze.
'Yesh,' said Cohen, and sighed. Thatsh right, boy. I'm a lifetime in my own legend.'
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